Big Four
by EllisLuie
Summary: The Guardians' hearts are broken after they think they have lost their newest member. However, it turns out Jack isn't as gone as it seems - and this time, there's no arguing that he is the baby of the group.
1. Chapter 1

**So originally this story was part of my ROTG collection of story arcs and drabbles "Winterspell". However, as this arc turned into something significantly bigger than any other arc in that collection, I long ago promised that I would extract it and give it its own story. Several years later, voila. There were 11 chapters of this originally posted in "Winterspell" and in there I said that I would complete the arc when I gave it its own story. I then promptly vanished for, like, two years. My bad. Anyway, finally, I am happy to present Big Four.**

 **Disclaimer: I claim no ownership to any recognizable content or characters.**

* * *

The mood in Santa's Workshop is unnaturally somber and quiet, the air itself seemingly weighing down on the souls of every being inside. Production has stopped, leaving the Yeti listless and gloomy, tucked away in a lonely room, hiding from the world outside their hidey-hole. The elves, usually so cheery and obnoxious, have stopped their jingling bells and wide smiles; instead, they are standing sentinel in the halls, their small heads lowered.

No sound emanates from the large workshop rooms, or from the single main office where Russian music usually plays loudly. The Workshop seems dead and lacking in its usual gleeful wonder, and one must think it has been deserted.

Hidden away in a lonely chamber is Santa Claus himself, apparently unaware of how depressing his prized palace of joy and wonder has become. Santa himself seems to be the embodiment of everything that is wrong with his home: his eyes are bleary and bloodshot, void of their normal merry twinkle. Nicholas St. North's cheeks are pallid, no longer their jolly rosy red, and his beard is wild and tangled, looking as if it hasn't been properly cared for in days. North's bright red coat is absent, revealing his rumpled, stained shirt and his frayed trousers. Curiously, his boots are also missing from his feet, discarded in a pile beside his chair. North himself is slumped over his desk, his head cupped in his hands and his fingers digging into his scalp. Beside his elbow is a large empty bottle of Russian vodka.

Though hard to tell from his position, North is, in fact, fully conscious. His lacklustre blue eyes are trained on a single wooden doll lying in front of him. The doll itself is not an unusual sight: after all, this is Santa's Workshop, therefore it is full to the brim with toys of all types. Indeed, North has one such doll himself, only his doll's colouring is significantly different. Whereas North's doll has big eyes and a main red colouring, the one currently in front of him has a striking resemblance to a particular winter spirit.

Despite the fact that the doll brings tears to his eyes – though none fall, he has run out long ago – he cannot bring his gaze away from the small figurine. North finally shifts and moves shaking fingers to the doll, brushing his thumb against the wooden boy's cheek.

Suddenly, North sweeps his hand across the desk, sending the doll and several unfinished mechanisms crashing to the floor. He glares at the abused pieces for a minute before breaking his gaze away, unable to bear having the innocent blue eyes of the doll stare up at him in betrayal. As his eyes rise, they land on the empty bottle of alcohol. It takes a moment for what he is seeing to register with him. Once it does, North wrinkles his nose in disgust at himself and harshly pushes away from the desk. His chair squeaks against the floor in protest, but North pays his screaming furniture no mind as he heaves to his feet and staggers to the other side of the room, where a large bed resides.

Immediately, North slides under the covers, staring up at his ceiling blankly. He attempts to shut off his mind enough to fall into the waves of tempting sleep, but he is unsuccessful. His mind buzzes and hums, rendering him unsusceptible to slumber.

Briefly, he considers using the small amount of dream sand Sandy had left them all after the _event._ The Sandman must have known they would have trouble sleeping tonight. Of course he had, how could they not have trouble silencing their thoughts enough to rest after what happened? North soon discards the notion. He does not deserve peaceful sleep, not when it is his fault this tragedy occurred.

So, North lets his mind absently bounce off random thoughts, all the while feeling a chilling numbness seeping into his very being. Slowly, _ever so slowly,_ his thoughts veer off into another direction than elves and rockets; into a more unwelcome, more _miserable_ direction. North is cautious to let his thoughts wander so, but eventually gives in to his persistent subconscious nagging.

First, North brings the boy's smiling face to mind – the boy's, not _Jack's,_ he cannot think of him as their _Jack_ – focusing on the look of his smile, the sound of his chiming laughter. North carefully avoids thinking of his eyes; he can't imagine those eyes, the ones that he had watched the light fade from. North's own eyes shut as another tear makes its track down his cheek, surprising him with the fact that he does, in fact, have more tears to shed. His mind floats back to that day, to that _moment._

-ROTG-

 _The world seems to slow down, and the air becomes stale and suffocating. North is hardly aware that he is stumbling forwards, lurching and tripping, dropping his swords and falling to his knees beside the pair. The others are close behind him, but North is more focused on Tooth and her precious cargo. Jack is limp in her arms, looking so small and frail that North feels his heart pang with misery._

 _Tooth is shaking like a leaf, and normally, North would comfort her, but he keeps his eyes trained on the horribly young-looking boy in her embrace. Jack's hair seems duller than his usual brilliant white, seemingly grey against the light dusting of snow covering the ground. His eyes are thin slits, hardly showing his bright blue irises. North doesn't notice when he lowers a large hand to the boy's hair, brushing the stray strands out of his face._

 _He is speaking, urging under his breath for Jack to open his eyes, to speak, to move, to do anything to indicate he can comprehend what is going on. But the winter spirit remains still, his only movement being the irregular and faint rising and falling of his chest._

 _It's not until North realizes that Bunny and Sandy are crouched closely beside them when Jack's hand twitches and a tiny groan slips forth from his pale lips. North's mumbles and whispers abruptly cut off, and he leans forward with baited breath._

 _"Jack?" Tooth breathes as his eyes flutter. "Sweet Tooth?" Her voice wavers, sounding choked as she struggles to stop the tears falling.._

 _A quiet moan emerges from Jack as his head turns to the side. "Wha'…. Wha'appened?" His voice is thick and nearly incoherent. Jack squints up at them, eyes unfocussed and clearly pained. "No'th," he slurs, "No'th…"_

-ROTG-

Santa wrenches his eyes open and lunges into a sitting position, breathing heavy and eyes wide as they search around wildly. He peers out the large window opposite his bed, glancing through the slight parting in the curtains. The sky outside his Workshop is pure darkness, blotting out the stars. North can only see a sliver of the moon, and for this he is incredibly glad. Manny must be hiding his face from them – which he should, North thinks bitterly.

Deciding that he doesn't dare try to fall asleep again, in case he dreams of that day once more, North leaves the warm cocoon of his bed in favour of the somewhat chilly corner where he stores his sketches of toy ideas. On a whim, North pulls out a recent design sketch, smoothing out the paper and examining the drawing.

The toy was inspired by the winter spirit himself several months ago; he had been idly playing with the elves, freezing the ones that cheated in their game of tag. North is still mystified at how one manages to cheat in such a game, but Jack had insisted that the unfortunate frozen elves had deserved it for violating the sacred rules of the game. While the boy and elves had enjoyed their fun immensely, North had been struck with an idea. What if he gave children the chance to 'elf bowl' as Jack loved to do?

The concept is quite simple really: it's like a usual game of bowling, only the pins are little robotic elves that try to avoid the ball, and the ball itself is designed like a rough snowball, making it difficult to accurately aim. North hadn't brought up the game idea with Jack, having decided to wait until he made the first prototype.

Now it seems like North shall never get that chance. With this thought, North crumples the sketch in his hand, throwing it angrily to the ground. The paper bounces off the floor before coming to a rest beside his bare feet. North's eyes prick with tears again, and he viciously kicks away the paper ball. Slamming a fist onto his desk, North slumps into his chair, scrunching his eyes shut. It has only been less than a week since the _event,_ and North cannot keep his mind from traveling back in time no matter how hard he tries.

-ROTG-

 _"Jack, you must open eyes now," North orders desperately, roughly shaking his shoulder._

 _The boy does as he says, humming in pain as he squints. "Tired," he mutters quietly, eyes fluttering again. "Hurts, No'th. Tired."_

 _Jack's breathing is scarily laboured and rough, dragging in uneven amounts of air and expelling it with difficulty. Jack's hand twitches again, moving up towards his chest. His fingers weakly dig into the fabric of his blue jumper as he plucks at it, so as to unstick it from his chest._

 _Tooth gently bats his hand away, her teary eyes going to the bloodstain smack dab in the middle of his chest. "No, Jack," she says softly, "you can't do that. Your jumper is the only thing slowing down the bleeding."_

 _Jack frowns and struggles to get a better look, but gasps and falls back with tightly closed eyes. He whimpers in pain, and the sound breaks North's heart. "H-Hurts," Jack gulps, "Bad. Can't – Can't breathe."_

 _"Jack," North begins, growing anxious when he gets no response. "Jack!"_

 _The winter spirit manages to open his eyes and look at him, even forcing a smile that nearly sends North sobbing. "No'th," he pants, "not your fault. P'omise. Not your fault."_

 _Santa feels tears slide down his cheeks as he stares at the injured boy before him. "Jack," he chokes, "you should not have done that! You should not have taken attack for me! I should have – You might – " North breaks off into a bout of choked cries._

 _"No'th," Jack breathes, expression stern despite his rapidly weakening state and obvious pain. "Not your fault." His face suddenly relaxes, and his death grip on his staff loosens considerably. His eyes gain a peaceful look, and the others immediately panic, demanding him to stay awake and talk to them, look at them. "I…" he trails off, "M'Sorry."_

 _With that, his eyes flick to North, and Santa watches with crushing grief and guilt as the mischievous and lively sparkle leaves the boy's eyes._

-ROTG-

The funeral had been held the next day, after denial had been proven impossible and they had all come to accept the fact that Jack, their Jack, is gone. Accept, maybe, but not forget or move on. North doesn't think they will ever move on, and they will certainly never forget; how can they, when Jack's presence remains in everything and everywhere in their homes?

It is for this reason that North hasn't left his chambers since the funeral. He has allowed the Yetis a period of rest from working, giving them a time to mourn as well. No matter how much of a nuisance Jack had made himself out to be for them, all of the furry winter creatures had loved and cared for him in their own way, especially Phil.

The elves are something North is somewhat unsure of. They are grieving also; a surprise, considering North was unaware they knew what was going on and who was who. Perhaps they are smarter than he thought they were. Jack had played with the elves every time he had been at the Pole; which had been frequently, since he later decided to take North up on his offer of moving in. North understands now that Jack just had something about him that made everyone that bothered to spend time with him love him, be they spirit, child, or some other mythical being.

For the first time, North briefly hates this about Jack. If the boy had been just a little more unlovable, a little less child-like and wonder-filled, then maybe North wouldn't have cared as much, and maybe it wouldn't hurt _so bad_ now that he's gone. Of course, this thought doesn't last long. His childish wonder and fun spirit are some of the things North loved most about Jack, he couldn't really hate him for possessing these qualities. Even so, this doesn't help the fact that North has no idea how to go on without Jack in his life, waking him up in the mornings with the sound of his laughter and the annoyed grumbling of the Yeti, watching him eagerly as he sculpts his toy designs, making his life so _joyful_ and _fun._ Without Jack, without his _son,_ North's world seems bleak and unimaginative. He no longer sees the lights in the trees or the wonder in the air without the winter spirit, and he has no idea how he had lived without Jack for so long.

* * *

The Easter Bunny's Warren is a place of hope, of new beginnings, of _life._ E. Aster Bunnymund is supposed to be the embodiment of all these things. He is supposed to nurture hope in all living things, to discreetly assure them that things will get better, and that all is not lost. His Warren, his home, is supposed to be lively and bright, able to instil hope in even the deadest of hearts, and awaken the dreams in those who have long given up. The plants are supposed to burst with a variety of colours, forever in full bloom. The grass is supposed to always be emerald green and inviting, a perfect canvas for the streams of beautiful paint and googie-flowers. New born egglets are supposed to be romping around in the meadows, splashing each other with colours and running around on spindly legs.

These are all things that the Warren should be, and usually is. These are also all things that the Warren currently holds none of. The plants are wilted and dulled, the grass sad-looking and sick, the paint streams almost dried and still, and the egglets look lonely as they solemnly gather around a thicket of trees, in which holds the entrance to their master's rooms. The egg golems stand guard outside, their stone faces seemingly remorseful as they stop the eager egglets from going inside.

Deep under the thicket is Bunny's biggest room, where he sleeps. This is where he currently resides, although he is definitely not sleeping. He is curled in the corner, ears pressed against his skull and his eyes particularly blank. He seems to be studying the wall opposite of him, though his eyes seem to be staring off into nothingness. Only one egglet is with him: the only egglet he has granted access to. The googie is clutched protectively in his grasp, his furry paws cupping it gently.

This egglet is specially painted. Bunny had made it only a few weeks ago as a surprise for Jack. It is light blue, the colour of a cool winter sky, with a few dustings of white spread across it for a snow-like effect. It really is beautiful, and Bunny had been really proud of it. Now it only serves as an agonizing reminder that their youngest Guardian is no more. Bunny would have left the little egglet outside, forgotten, if in doing so hadn't reminded him of Jack: the egglet really is a winter googie, and for Bunny to discard it outside his home and leave it all alone is just like the first three-hundred years of Jack Frost's existence. It would be cruel.

So Bunny cradles the googie close, ears drooped and eyes blank as his mind sucks him unwillingly into the events of a few days ago.

-ROTG-

 _The fight is going well. Pitch's rather pitiful nightmares are easily dispersed, even though there are many. The Guardians are clearly winning, and Bunny is feeling confident. Until it happens._

 _Bunny looks up, a smirk in place as he prepares to gloat about his rather impressive attack. His boomerangs are clenched victoriously in his paws, trails of nightmare sand falling loose from his weapons. "Oi, North! Didja see that?" he calls out smugly, eyes catching on the jolly man as he chops at the swarm of nightmares with ease. Bunny would have called out to Frostbite if the kid had been in sight, but North had been located quicker._

 _Santa raises his head and searches for the source of the shout, letting out a bark of laughter when he notices Bunny. "Ah! Good one, old friend!" he congratulates, even though it's clear he hasn't seen the attack. "Very good! Fight shall be over soon, no?"_

 _That's when it happens. While North is distracted talking to Bunny, Pitch discreetly rises up behind him, a long silver dagger already in hand. If it wasn't for Bunny initiating North in conversation, the Cossack would have noticed and prepared himself. As it is, North doesn't realize until it's too late._

 _"Ah, North!" Bunny cries out in warning, even though he knows it won't do any good. "Behind ya! Bloody coward sneaking up behind people!" He dashes closer to North on all fours, but doesn't arrive fast enough._

 _Just as North spins around to face Pitch and Bunny reaches the large man's shoulder, Pitch's dagger is halfway to its target. North tenses beside Bunny as he waits for impact, knowing that it is too late to defend himself._

 _"No! North!"_

 _Bunny hears the yell a millisecond before Jack comes into view, barrelling towards them, his face determined. "Frostbite? What are ya – " Before Bunny can finish, the dagger strikes. Only, Jack falls to the ground instead of North._

 _"Jack!" Bunny cries, freezing as terror and horror crash over him. Tooth is the first to reach him, skidding on the ground as she tries to stop beside him. Bunny remains frozen until he hears the morbid, soft laughter of the Nightmare King. "Ya bloody ratbag," he whispers in disgust, his eyes blazing with fury. "Ya'll pay fer this, Pitch!"_

-ROTG-

Bunny remembers the moment when he watched Jack fall from the sky perfectly. He clearly recalls every emotion he had felt, every fear and horror. He also remembers watching the life leave Jack. That was the moment everything he stood for seemed to crumble. What good is hope now that Jack's dead? No amount of _hope_ will bring him back. How can they even _think_ of new beginnings, a new life without Jack Frost, their own personal Guardian ankle-biter? And life? What life? Jack _has no life_ in him! He's dead! He's gone! How can Bunny bring hope to kids when he doesn't even feel it anymore?

Bunny doesn't know how to carry on anymore. With Jack _dead,_ nothing is happy, nothing is hopeful, nothing is _fun._ The Warren is lifeless and lonely without the familiar sounds of Jack's light footsteps on the grass, the faint crackling of frost forming on Bunny's flowers, the whistling of the Wind as it encourages Jack's pranks.

It certainly doesn't help that it's Bunny's fault he's gone. If he hadn't called out to North, then the Cossack would've been able to defend himself against Pitch's attack, and Jack wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself to save the man. However you look at it, it always leads back to Bunny. In a sense, Bunny killed his little brother. He killed Frostbite.

The thought makes Bunny curl into a tighter ball and hug the egglet closer to his chest. He refuses to cry. He will be strong. He will bottle it up so as to help the others grieve. He doesn't deserve the chance to cry over Jack's death, not when he caused it. He will suffer in silence, because that's what _Jack_ deserves. The winter spirit deserves to be respected, especially by his killer.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bunny knows his thoughts are irrational. He hadn't been the one to throw that dagger: it had been Pitch. _Pitch_ had made the fatal strike against the boy, and _Pitch_ is to blame. But that doesn't change the fact that Bunny will now have to live the rest of eternity without the young Frost child, all because he had wanted to gloat.

Bunny straightens and determinedly stands, gently setting the special egglet on the ground and pushing it towards the door. The googie travels to the exit unsteadily then hesitates. It turns around and seems to watch the pooka curiously. Bunny stills and stares at the egglet – it even _acts_ like bloody Frost!

"Go on," he tells it. "Shoo! Go be with the others. I wanna be alone right now."

The egglet bobs its body and spins around, marching out of the room. Bunny sighs and sinks back down to the floor, resting his head against the wall. "I can't do it," he whispers to the walls. "I don't know how ta go back ta how it was before Jack was a Guardian. I don't think I can do that again. Not now that I know what it was like with 'im a part of the team. He helped us become closer – become a family. I dunno how ta _forget_ that. I don't think I wanna forget that."

-ROTG-

 _"Hey, Bunny," Jack laughs as he swings his staff at an oncoming nightmare. "I bet I can defeat more nightmares than you!"_

 _Bunny halts in his assault and snorts. "Yeah, right. Yer a scrawny little spirit whose only weapon is a thin stick! I can totally beat more than ya."_

 _Jack grins in excitement, lazily swiping at a nightmare as he pretends to consider. "Is that a challenge, Kangaroo?"_

 _Bunny bristles. "How many times do I haveta tell ya? I am not a kangaroo! 'Sides, it's not a challenge when there's no competition. Like I said, I'll totally flatten ya at yer own game. Prepare to be beaten, Frostbite!"_

 _Jack whoops, thrusting his fist into the air as he cheers. "You're on!" he exclaims happily. "When we get back to the Pole you can announce me as the winner in front of all the others! And when I win, you have to agree that you are a kangaroo! Deal?"_

 _Bunny thinks about it. "Eh, why not? Yer gonna lose anyway. Deal!"_

 _"Yes!" Jack shouts before plunging into the mass of nightmares and out of Bunny's sight._

-ROTG-

Bunny mulls over the fight in his mind, even though it makes him nauseas and strikes him with grief once more. He swallows with difficulty and chuckles humorlessly. "I'll be," he murmurs. "You win, Frostbite. Ya got more nightmares than me." Bunny breathes deeply, lowering his head. "Sorry I never got the chance to carry out our deal. Guess I am a kangaroo, after all."

* * *

Sandy is huddled on his dream cloud. He wishes he were home, or maybe at the Pole, that way he wouldn't have to be alone, but he still has dreams to grant children. The things the young ones' imaginations dream up almost make him want to cry. Some of the children are as creative as Jack, and imagine big snowball fights, swimming with dolphins, or even battling Captain Hook. The mere act of thinking up happy things to put in dreams exhausts Sandy.

He has trouble thinking of happy things for the children that don't have enough of an imagination to think up their own dreams. He constantly thinks that Jack would have millions of brilliant ideas, and his eyes would be sparkling with excitement as he rattled off a list of things kids would love to dream about. Sandy tries to stop this train of thought, but he can't get the image of Jack's grinning face out of his head. So he sends the image out to the children, giving them dreams about a young boy who was all about fun, and loved to play tricks on unsuspecting victims.

When this seems to work, Sandy starts to give out dreams of his memories of Jack. Children start to dream of a spirit who argues with the Easter Bunny, who laughs with Santa Claus, and who urges the Tooth Fairy to have more fun and work less. Sandy can feel the happy contentment coming off the children in waves as they sleep and dream, and he wishes he can feel like that.

Instead, Sandy is filled with pulses of grief and loneliness. Jack would usually accompany him on his nightly rounds, bouncing ideas off him, or recounting the fun he had that day. Sometimes they just sat in companionable silence. Sandy misses this the most, he thinks. The other Guardians have trouble understanding what he says most of the time, and usually just push him out of the conversation. They don't do it to be mean, and Sandy doesn't really mind, but it does get a little lonely.

Jack was the one who really tried to understand his symbols, and directly spoke to him in a conversation. Jack was the one who seemed to be okay with the fact that Sandy sometimes preferred not to converse, but just enjoy each other's company instead.

But now he's gone, and the world is _wrong._ No more frozen power lines and cheerful greetings. No more silent companionship. No more pranking together. No more snowball fights. No more teasing. No more joy, no more fun. No more Jack.

It's only then that Sandy realizes how _quiet,_ and _lonely_ the world can be. It's awful, and Sandy hates it. He wonders how Jack could've stood it all those years – and then he realizes. Jack had no choice. It's not like he could talk to somebody to break the spell of loneliness. There was no one. Jack had been completely alone.

Out of all the Guardians, Sandy had thought that he had known what it was like for Jack the most. Sandy had certainly been the one who had interacted with the boy the most – and even that had been rare occasions. Only now does he know how little he understood Jack's first three-hundred years of existence. Now he believes he is all too aware of how terrible it had been. Yes, Sandy still has the other Guardians to be with, but he knows things will not be the same without their energetic Frost boy. The only reason they have grown so close and become a _family_ is because Jack had been made one of them and brought it on. Without him, what is the reason to gather at the Pole every other day? Why should they have dinner at North's every week? Why should Tooth and Sandy drop by the Workshop just before they start their rounds so that Jack may accompany them? There is no Jack anymore. No Jack to play tricks on Bunny as he complains about the cold, no Jack to exclaim in awe over the amounts of delicious food at North's table, no Jack to help Tooth gather teeth or spread dreams with Sandy. He's gone, and Sandy knows he has left a permanent, lonely Jack-sized hole in all their hearts.

The Sandman stops his dream creating, knowing that his despairing thoughts are making the sleeping children below uncomfortable and uneasy. With a silent sigh, Sandy prepares to leave and give up on his rounds – the children can go without a night of dreams, especially since there is no Pitch to worry about any longer.

-ROTG-

 _It's one of those times where Sandy wishes he isn't a mute. He watches with enraged anguish as the silver dagger leaves Pitch's hand and flies in an arc towards the awaiting Cossack. Sandy wants nothing more than to call out, to stop that knife, but all he can do is observe as a blue blur zips in between the Nightmare King and Guardian. From his position in front of it all, Sandy can see everything, even Jack as he stops in his flight, intentionally getting in the way of the dagger. He sees the weapon sinking through the fabric of the boy's jumper and into his chest, tunnelling in to the hilt._

 _Jack's eyes widen and his hands fly up to his chest, his staff still in his grasp. But the Wind loses its grip on him, and the winter spirit begins his fall. Beside him, Tooth screams out and shoots after him, but Sandy remains where he is, mouth open and eyes horrified. All he can see clearly is the growing, vivid red stain on Jack's jumper and the insubstantial, shadow-like hilt protruding out of his chest._

 _He doesn't awaken from his shocked trance until Bunny's growled threats reach his ears. Sandy jerkily turns his head, spotting the Easter Bunny a few feet away. The Guardian looks utterly furious, his paws clenched at his sides even as they shake. Sandy can easily detect the pain and panic behind the fury in the rabbit's eyes, indicating that even though Bunny wants nothing more than to be at Jack's side and make sure all is not lost, that there is still hope, he believes that Pitch is to be dealt with first._

 _Sandy thinks he is right. Jack will not be able to properly rest unless they can assure him that Pitch Black is not a threat anymore. With this thought in mind, pushing back the awful memory of seeing the dagger sink into Jack's chest, Sandy forms his sand-whips, purposely making them longer and thicker than normal._

 _He advances on the Nightmare King, eyes narrowed and face set. His usually bright, welcoming round face doesn't hold even a glimmer of his usual kindness. Sandy hadn't been this furious since Pitch loosed an arrow at the Sandman himself, and even then Sandy hadn't been like this. It's different: this is **Jack.** Pitch hasn't struck Sandy, or North, or the other two elder Guardians. No, he has struck Jack, the child, the youngest, the baby of the group. Like it or not, Bunny and Sandy aren't going to let him go unpunished. Not even close._

-ROTG-

Sandy is quite confident that Pitch will not dare show his face again for at least several centuries. Not if he has any sense of self-preservation. If he does, Sandy will happily loose North and Tooth on him – goodness knows they deserve to have their chance at ripping him to shreds. No, Sandy decides, they won't have to deal with Pitch for a _long_ time.

Sandy packs up his streams of dream sand, dispersing them in his hands. Then he warps his cloud into his preferred plane and forms goggles to snap over his eyes. As he does so, Sandy catches sight of a sliver of the moon, and stills.

Manny had been the one to send them out to fight Pitch. He hadn't told them that Pitch had the intent and gall to kill one of them. Unlike North, and perhaps Bunny – maybe even Tooth – Sandy doesn't blame the Man in the Moon, at least not completely. Sure, Sandy isn't at all happy with his old friend, and maybe he does harbor a little bit of bitter feelings for Jack's sake, but he knows Manny is just doing his job. Perhaps it had been unavoidable, therefore pointless to inform his Guardians that Pitch had a dagger and was willing to use it.

As Sandy flies his plane over the Atlantic Ocean, he allows his mind to skim over his memories of Jack's funeral.

-ROTG-

 _It's a quiet affair, with only the Guardians, Yeti, elves, and a few bucket-loads of Tooth's fairies attending. The Guardians had informed Jack's seasonal friends of his passing, and had offered them an invite, but they had declined, preferring to have their own service for Jack. Secretly, the Guardians are pleased with this development._

 _Sandy knows that they would find it awkward, mourning alongside Jack's friends, who had known him for far longer. At the same time, Sandy is also aware that though the Guardians and Jack had only been together for a few years, they were more like family than friends._

 _Jack's staff is laid out on the floor, on top of the Guardian mural, the crook resting on Jack's space. His body is not here: since he was an elemental, Mother Nature has laid claim to his lifeless shell. She has allowed them to keep his staff, though, despite the fact that she doesn't quite understand the sentimental meaning behind it._

 _Candles surround Jack's picture on the floor, and Sandy learns that it was the same way for his funeral. North's elves look forlorn as they stand in a large circle in front of the Guardians, the little bells on their heads sounding incredibly sad as they slowly ring them in sync with each other. The Yeti stand behind them, heads lowered and hands clasped._

 _The only sound is the depressing chiming of the elves, and the occasional sniffling from Tooth's fairies. Baby Tooth is the only one sitting on Tooth's shoulder, her tiny cheeks shining with tears and her feathers dull. Tooth herself is not much better, standing on her feet instead of hovering in the air like usual. Bunny stands opposite of her, his head bowed and ears drooped. He hardly moves. North, beside Tooth, is silent and hunched, eyes oddly blank as he keeps them trained on the staff._

 _Sandy has his hands clasped in front of him, eyes closed and a sad frown in place. A single elf toddles forward and kneels beside the staff, lowering his pointy hat to his chest and tugging on the bell with tiny hands. It comes off suddenly, falling through the elf's fingers and bouncing against the ground, making broken jingling sounds. The elf clumsily reaches for it, grabbing hold and clutching it protectively. He scoots closer to the staff and lays the bell beside it, patting the stick slowly before clambering to his feet and skipping away._

 _North nods to the elf as it passes, forcing a weak smile as the elf waves up at him. Baby Tooth then pushes off from Tooth's shoulder, dropping down beside the staff and laying a single tooth and miniscule feather next to it._

 _"Jack's first baby tooth," Tooth whispers in a choked voice, a fresh wave of tears cascading down. "Baby Tooth thought it was a-appropriate since the l-last time we fought Pitch he g-got his memories. She also wanted to put something for herself, so that's one of her first feathers."_

 _Sandy nods in understanding and places a gentle hand on the fairy's arm. Tooth's frame shakes as she takes a deep breath. A gruff sound is heard behind him, and Sandy turns to see Phil. The Yeti shifts, rubbing his face and stepping backwards. Sandy sends him a sympathetic look, sending a gentle, discreet, wave of soothing dream sand throughout the whole room._

-ROTG-

Sandy arrives at his home quickly, eager to be alone and away from things that may remind him of Jack. But as his sand-plane evaporates into different streams of sand, one particular strand catches his eye. It breaks off into several clumps, two of which that form into dolphins. Sandy is frozen as he watches the sand-dolphins swimming in the air. Then he swipes his small arm through the figures, leaving them shapeless. Sandy sinks back down to the ground, scrunching his eyes shut as thin trails of tears made of sand fall down his cheeks.

* * *

Tooth has locked herself away in the room full of children's memories. Golden canisters line the walls, reaching up to the clouds in the sky. This room has no ceiling – her whole palace lacks such a structure. The walls, however, reach so high that penetration from above is practically impossible, though not entirely. Pitch had, of course, been able to break in and steal all of the memories. Since then, security has been heightened considerably. Currently, Tooth is sat in the corner, the only one without the stacks of canisters.

In her hands are two cylinders, one of the brightest gold, and the other the palest of silvers. Both have pictures on front, both depicting a young boy. The first, the golden one, has the drawing of a boy of about eight-years-old, with unruly brown hair, bright matching eyes and a trouble-making grin. Tooth clutches this one close to her chest, while the other one, in the other hand, is held in front of her. This one is minimally bigger than the other, with a drawing of a young teenage boy. He has unruly white hair and sparkling blue eyes, but with the same mischievous smile as the other canister.

The two cylinders are memory holders, both for the same boy, but one holding mortal memories, and the other holding immortal. Tooth refuses to release either of them, instead opting to study every nook and crevice in each of them, and the effect every tear has on them when they fall from her eye and land on the canister.

Tooth knows her fairies are outside, deeply concerned for her. She knows they are grieving as well, and she wishes she could give them all a time to mourn, but there are thousands of teeth to collect and they cannot risk missing a night's work. All she can do is give Baby Tooth time off – goodness knows the little fairy needs it. Tooth hasn't seen her little fairy – no, _Jack's_ little fairy – since the funeral. Tooth is worried for Baby Tooth, but she knows she won't be any good, not when she can't leave this room herself.

The best she can do for her mini-fairy is give her space and a chance to grieve in her own way, much like the Guardians are all doing for each other. Tooth vaguely thinks that they are going about mourning Jack in the wrong way: surely he wouldn't want them to suffer all alone, in silence? They all know how he hated being isolated from everyone, being lonely and sad and having _no fun_ at all. At the same time, Tooth can't help but think that being together without him will be unbearably painful. His absence will be all the more obvious and the get-together will achieve nothing but strike them with more grief and pain.

Tooth exhales softly, catching a tear in her palm. She stares at it for a moment, watching as the light reflects off the droplet in bright sparkles. Then she flings out her hand and the droplet goes flying through the air, and Tooth shakily gets to her feet, not even bothering to try and fly. So she walks to the other end of the large room, counting the steps as she goes. When she gets to one-hundred-sixty-three, she stops in front of a large column of teeth canisters and runs her fingertips over the cylinders.

Her fingers stop at a small hole, which usually holds a single memory box. Juggling both cylinders in her right hand, Tooth gently takes the golden one in her left hand and slowly slides it back into place, after casting it another sad look. Left with only the silver box, Tooth mentally debates as she stares at it. The light catches the picture on the front, and Tooth's eyes are drawn to the image.

It's obviously Jack. That colourless hair and trouble-maker eyes are impossible to forget. Tooth's other hand slowly floats up to it and traces the outline of his face and she sinks back down to the floor. She curls her legs up to her feathered chest, keeping the canister close to her face. Tooth's wings flutter briefly before stilling, and she rests her head against the wall of canisters. Her fingers dance over every surface of the memory container in her grasp, memorizing every corner and dent, every shape and scratch.

Usually, Tooth's memory containers are incredibly well cared for and loved, and there's hardly a scratch on any of them. Jack's immortal memories, however, were always at the back – so much so that Tooth had almost forgotten them completely when Manny chose him to be a Guardian. Tooth feels immensely guilty for this, and hugs the cylinder tightly to her heart, shutting her eyes and bowing her head over her hands.

As she cries, she feels a tiny, warm form snuggle into her hands. She brings her head back to see one of her faithful little fairies. The birthmark under her eye gives Tooth a way to identify the fairy as Baby Tooth. The bigger fairy tries to give the little one a weak smile, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Tooth gently shifts the memory cylinder into her lap and cups her little fairy in her palms.

"Hello, little one," she says softly, her voice quiet and raw from crying. "Where have you been?"

Baby Tooth leans into Tooth's hands, chirping sadly and closing her odd-coloured eyes. Tooth sighs and runs a thumb over her little fairy's head, smoothing back the tiny feathers. "I know," she whispers. Baby Tooth opens her eyes and peers at her curiously, but with strangely blank eyes. "I know," Tooth repeats, "I miss him, too."

Baby Tooth nuzzles into Tooth's hands, curling into a tiny, tight ball. Tooth covers her with her other hand, slowly bringing her hands back to her chest and resuming her former position. "I miss him," she says again. "He was in my arms, and he died. I miss him, too, Baby Tooth."

-ROTG-

 _Tooth is crying without reservation, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks and her air getting caught in her throat. She is unable to speak; all she can do is clutch the winter spirit in her arms even tighter, burying her face in the fabric of his jumper._

 _She carefully avoids looking at the steadily growing red stain on his chest, instead keeping her eyes trained on his face. She has one arm wrapped around his waist, and the other under his shoulders. She had caught him as he fell, just before he hit the ground, and had refused to release him. The sight of the hilt in his chest makes her sick, but she can't bring herself to look away from him._

 _North is on his other side, murmuring something desperately under his breath. Tooth lets out a breathless cry as Bunny and Sandy kneel beside them, and Jack moves. His groan physically hurts Tooth, and her grip automatically tightens on the boy._

 _His eyes flutter open, and Tooth shivers at the look of pain in his bright blue eyes. "Jack?" she says, hearing the fear and tears in her own voice. "Sweet Tooth?" She tries to continue, but the words get lodged in her throat as Jack's eyes finally focus._

 _He hums, shifting in her arms. "Wha'…" he mumbles, eyes sliding around as he squints upwards. "Wha'appened?"_

 _Tooth nearly sobs, choking on humourless laughter. Apparently Jack hasn't noticed the dagger sticking out of his chest. "No'th," he moans. "No'th."_

 _The fairy lightly strokes the back of his neck in a futile comforting manner, her tears dripping down on Jack's form._

 _As Jack's breathing hitches, his chest jerks and the dagger is moved, making Jack cry out. He breaks off, breathing heavily and scrunching his eyes tight. Tooth quietly shushes him, whispering soothing words in his ear. Out of the corner of her eye, Tooth sees Bunny move._

 _The rabbit reaches out a cautious paw, and wraps it around the hilt of the dagger. Jack moans as the slight movement digs the weapon deeper into his chest, and Bunny winces. Tooth raises her head and nods at him, eyes hard. The Easter Bunny shares a long look with her before taking a deep breath and taking firm hold of the hilt._

 _Before he can lose his nerve, he yanks the knife out of Jack's chest, quickly dropping it to the ground as if it had burned him. He practically snarls at the weapon until a soft whimper emits from the winter spirit._

 _"Oh, Jack," Tooth breathes, "it's okay, Sweet Tooth… Shh, it's okay…" The lie tastes bitter on her tongue._

-ROTG-

Tooth's cries subside until they are nothing more than pitiful whimpers. Baby Tooth wraps her small arms around her thumb, and Tooth cradles her closer protectively. After a moment, the mini-fairy moves and crawls out of her mother's hands, instead making her way over to the memory cylinder still in Tooth's lap.

Baby Tooth lays her tiny head against the container, patting it absently with her hand. A faint smile ghosts across Tooth's face, even through the flood of tears. "Jack loved you," she says quietly. "He cared for you very much, little one."

Baby Tooth nods and tweets back at her carefully. Tooth shakes her head, but Baby Tooth is persistent – she insists that Jack loved her too, as well as the other Guardians.

Tooth's eyes grow distant as she reflects, her thumb idly stroking Baby Tooth's head again.

-ROTG-

 _Tooth's arms are still tight around Jack when the boy tries to assure an inconsolable North that none of this is his fault. Tooth sniffles and cradles him even closer to her person. She tunes out for a minute, the tears fogging her brain._

 _When she comes to once more, Jack is blinking rapidly, as if to clear spots from his eyes. "Jack?" she tries to say, but the sound is lost and it comes out as a croak._

 _"I…" he mouths, jaw working. "M'Sorry."_

 _A sudden chill seems to descend on Tooth – not Jack's kind of chill, not the good type, but an ominous, devastating chill that's filled with foreboding and dread. The air grows heavy and presses down on Tooth's lungs, making it hard to breathe._

 _Jack inclines his head towards North, his breathing growing more difficult. When North meets his gaze, Tooth watches as Jack – even now – forces a smile for the man. Then his eyes stray upwards and his face relaxes, gaining a serene look. Tooth gasps as Jack's eyes grow dull, losing their usual, lovable twinkle and fading into blankness, leaving him staring at the sky but seeing nothing._

 _Tooth releases her grasp on Jack, but keeps her arms around him. She lowers her head and finally succumbs to the wracking sobs that have been waiting to overtake her. The sobs are rough and loud, and they tear through her throat painfully as she chokes on her tears._

 _Her whole body shakes with the cries, and her feathers bristle, feeling damp. North lifts a hand to Jack's hair, but Tooth snaps her head up and hugs the boy even closer. Santa looks broken, haggard and miserable. His eyes look lost, and his air of hopelessness makes Tooth break out in a fresh bout of tears. She feels like her tears will never end._

-ROTG-

Tooth is snapped out of her trance by a rough sob, and her eyes burn with tears as she realizes it's her own. She raises her free hand to her mouth, covering it as tears fall. Baby Tooth chirps and tweets while itty-bitty tears of her own line her little face.

Tooth tries to calm her turbulent emotions, and manages to plug her tears and silence her sobs. But she can do nothing to alleviate the crushing feeling of grief that suffocates her.

The Guardians had gone from a team of four distant friends, to a family of five. Now they've returned to being the lonely, solitary Big Four.

* * *

 **I'm hoping for updates once a week, maybe once every two weeks. With my track record, however, that's variable.**


	2. Chapter 2

**And I present chapter two. Most of the chapters are the same as when they were part of the bigger collection, but I tried to go through and lightly edit, just to make things run smoother. Eh, I try.**

* * *

The world is dark and _ever so_ lonely. The air surrounding him is dank and suffocating, seeping into his very being, his very _core._ It makes him cold, and a shiver runs through his body in an attempt to shake himself of the unpleasant sensation. He doesn't know where he is; he doesn't quite know _what_ he is. All he is sure of is the fact that he is aware, alert, and very much _real._

He doesn't know his name, doesn't think he _has_ a name. He isn't really concerned either way. What does concern him, however, is the worrying problem of his surroundings. The damp darkness makes him uneasy, and the smell of overwhelming moss and mold fill his nostrils to the point of nausea. It's a struggle to draw breath, and the mere action makes him feel like he's suffocating.

He has no sight. No hearing. No sense of touch, nor taste. All he has is the sense of smell, which is being assaulted with the scent of dewy grass. Although, maybe he does in fact possess the other abilities as well. It's hard to tell in this endless pit of nothingness – no, not quite nothingness: there is pain also. He doesn't feel it, personally, right now, but he is all too aware of its presence.

Perhaps he _can_ see: maybe there is nothing to see but pitch-black darkness. Maybe he _can_ hear: is there no sound to be heard? It's possible he can, indeed, feel the sensation of touch: it's equally possible that there is nothing to feel. As for the sense of taste… he has given up on hoping to find proof of its existence.

He wants to go home; he wants to know he _has_ a home. Have things always been this way? So bleak, so sad, so lonely, so _wrong_? Has he lived this way his whole life? Has he only just become so aware of his situation? What a depressing life he leads.

Then something changes.

He has no idea how long it has been. He has tried to count as the minutes crawl by, but is unsuccessful in every attempt. It can be hours later; days later; _months_ later – he won't know the difference. Every second already feels like an eternity. However long it is, the air around him becomes tenser, tighter. It morphs into something akin to a blanket, albeit a terrifying and suffocating one.

He panics; what is going on? Why has it changed? Has the air always been this dense? Is he just imagining things – has nothing really changed? Then his head throbs. He is amazed. He has a head. He can feel. He is _real._ Breath _whooshes_ out of him, and he feels like laughing as he can suddenly _sense_ his body for the first time.

Tremors dance across his skin as he chances a glance downwards – he has _eyes_! – and practically chokes at what he sees. His body – a real-life, actual body! – is there. Vaguely, he takes in the details, not that it really matters what he looks like. The darkness shrouds around his dim blue jumper like shadows, sucking the light and colour from it. It also clings to his old frayed trousers, wrapping around the ankles like sick imitations of snakes. His feet are bare, and he finds this odd. Shouldn't there be something on them? He forgets what they are called, but he is sure that there is some sort of equipment used to cover feet. Though now that he thinks about it, he isn't sure these pieces of equipment have ever been on his feet – Shoes! That's it, shoes! No, shoes should never be on his feet. He forgets why, but the feeling is very strong: no shoes.

He gasps as a pulse of _something_ runs through him. He groans and, before he is able to marvel at the sound of the moan, collapses. He clutches his stomach desperately, eyes scrunched shut tightly. His chest feels as if it is on fire, and has the feeling of something burrowing in deeper. Something warm and wet is running down from his chest down to his stomach, but when he raises a hand to touch it, there is nothing there. It's pain from a phantom wound; ghost-like blood from something that is not there.

He is scared. He doesn't know what is happening. He wants it to end. The pain rips through him like a knife. Abruptly, the pain ends. He is left feeling empty, hollow. His eyes slide shut without any prompting on his part, and his head falls back on his shoulders. A relieved sigh slips through his locked lips as the phantom blood evaporates, leaving him exactly as he had been before, as if it had never happened.

He frowns as a tingling sensation covers him, bathing him in the slight discomfort. Then he feels a tug around his navel, and the feeling of being plunged in ice cold water fills him. He wrinkles his nose and sucks in a breath, eyes bulging like he is being compressed. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, giving him what he is sure to be a rather foolish appearance. Of course, it doesn't matter. It's not like there's anyone around to see him.

After a moment of uneasy discomfort, the feeling passes and he relaxes. Then he gets a wave of vertigo as he tries to stand – something is different. Before he can ponder about the obvious change, his mind goes fuzzy and his vision is encased in a painful white glow that chases the darkness away.

Through the confusion and fog filling his head like fluffy cotton clouds a voice cuts through clearly, ringing in his ears.

 _Your name is Jack Frost._

* * *

The halls of Santa's Workshop finally hold some semblance of life once more, but it is dismal at best. The elves are beginning to wander the halls again, smiles on their clueless faces. But their wandering seems forced, and the smiles non-genuine. The Yetis are working on the toys again, but come Christmas the children will notice that their dolls and robots are not painted with as vibrant of colours as last year. They also work slower, with no grumbling chitchat being shared between them.

Santa himself has finally emerged from his chambers. He still looks dishevelled and bleary eyed, but at least he is making an effort to continue on living, despite how wrong it seems. He almost feels like he has stolen Jack's life.

It has been three weeks since the tragic event, and the residents of Santoff Clausen only just started living their lives and doing their jobs once more a few days ago. North has not called the other Guardians together yet – he is not sure he can. The last time they were all together was at Jack's funeral. It's painful to even think about, and North knows it will be far worse when they are actually in the same room. The boy's absence will only be that more pronounced.

However, it appears that they are to be gathering anyway. The decision had not been on North's shoulders: the meeting has been called by none other than the Man in the Moon. Though not pleased with Manny in any way, and wishing with all his might that he did not have to obey, North knows his hand is forced. He, and the others, must join together and listen to what the forsaken Man in Moon has to say.

North has some doubts that they will all show. He knows Sandy will almost definitely come: the Sandman does not like being alone in a time of grieving, this North knows. Tooth North is less sure of, but thinks she will join if only so her mothering-instincts may help her comfort them all. Bunny is the one that North is most worried won't come. Not that Santa can blame him.

But the Easter Bunny surprises him. As North enters the Globe Room, scowling at the elves that have dared giggle in his presence, the rabbit is found leaning against the Globe itself, furry arms crossed and eyes blank. North pauses across the room from him, offering a gruff greeting before they lapse into an awkward silence.

Thankfully, they are saved from their silent wake by none other than the Sandman. Sandy ducks in through an open window on the other side of the room and floats over to them, offering the duo a weak smile and wave. Bunny gives a jerky nod and North waves his hand vaguely. As Sandy glances away, his attention caught by a hopping elf, the other two Guardians are finally able to take in his appearance. Though he doesn't appear to be as bad off as North or even Bunny, Sandy definitely looks a little haggard. His usually spiky, grainy hair seems somewhat wilted, and his face doesn't look nearly as welcoming or cheerful as it used to.

He turns back to them and forms a question mark above his head, giving them both a meaningful look.

North clears his throat but doesn't answer, instead opting to murmur to a nearby Yeti for more eggnog, but no cookies. Jack never drank eggnog, but he loved the cookies. It would be wrong to eat his favourite treat without him there.

Bunny shifts and briefly scowls as Dingle, Jack's favourite elf, toddles between his legs, a gloomy look on his tiny face. "How do ya _think_ we're doin'?" he mutters to Sandy in an ill-tempered way. "Ah yeah, we're doin' just bloody fantastic."

Sandy purses his lips but doesn't push the conversation any further. Before he can switch his inquiries to North, the fourth – _and final –_ member of their group finally arrives. Tooth flutters in through the same window as Sandy, but as soon as she enters the room she touches her feet to the ground and walks the rest of the way over to them.

North is immediately concerned. Not only is Toothiana refusing to fly, but her wings and feathers no longer hold their usual glorious gleam. Her whole appearance is severely dulled, and her eyes more murky purple than her brilliant bright violet. As she pads over to them, Bunny's arms slide out of their crossed position, and his ears press against his skull.

"Why are we here?" she asks dully, her voice a mere whisper. She doesn't even bother with the usual pleasantries and greetings, rather choosing to go straight to the point. "I have to go back and attend to my fairies."

Bunny hesitates but eventually sighs. "What were ya actually doin', Sheila? Ya certainly _weren't_ helping yer fairies. If I had ta guess, I'd say ya haven't been much help ta them fer weeks."

"Have you been any better?" Tooth snipes at him, narrowing her eyes. Bunny slumps and casts his eyes to the floor, a grief-stricken look crossing his features. Tooth bites her lip and closes her eyes, lowering her head and breathing an apology.

"Enough," North cuts across loudly, looking uncharacteristically sour. "No more fighting with each other! Is not right! Jack would not have wanted –" His voice chokes and he stops, having difficulty swallowing. "We are here because Man in Moon has something to say to us."

He swings his arm up, gesturing to the skylight in the ceiling. The Moon shines down brightly, bathing them in its soft glow – but everyone except for Sandy recoils away from the light with disgusted looks. The Sandman remains exactly where he is, standing directly in the path of the moonbeams, though he retains an expression of slight pain.

"Oh yeah?" Bunny grumbles, curling his lip. "What does he wanna talk ta us 'bout? I sure don't wanna talk ta 'im."

 _This is something I don't believe you should miss, Bunnymund._

Bunny jumps and scowls as the soft, quiet voice of Manny swirls about the room. The Man in the Moon doesn't speak using actual words very often, only if it is something that is hard to explain with symbols and hints. Sandy and Tooth slowly raise their heads to glance at the Moon, while Bunny keeps his eyes firmly glued to the ground and North's shoulders remain hunched.

"What is it?" Tooth asks gently, clasping her hands together at her chest. "Why have you called us here?"

 _I know this is hard for you, my Guardians. I understand that the loss of Jack Frost has impacted all of you especially hard, but I have called this meeting because there is something important that you all must attend to immediately._

"What's that, then?" Bunny asks impatiently, tapping his foot.

 _Please Aster, calm yourself. As you know, the world must have balance to properly survive. There must be bad to rival the good, death to rival life, for without the bad there is no good, and without death there is no life. It is the same with the seasons._

Sensing where this is going, North instantly straightens and squints up at the rock in the sky. "Manny," he warns. "Do not say what I think you are saying."

 _I'm sorry, Nicholas, but the world needs balance. There must be winter in order for there to be spring, and summer, and fall. Without one of the seasons, none of them can exist. Now that Jack is no more, the seasons are unbalanced; therefore the world is in a constant state of in-between. Nature does not work this way._

"So we're supposed to just go out and greet a new winter spirit?" Tooth asks faintly, sounding horrified. "We can't! Not now! It's only been a few weeks! You can't possibly ask us to…"

 _No, I am not asking you to introduce a new winter spirit to the world._

The fairy instantly relaxes, and Bunny even seems to breathe a little easier. North squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose, while beside him Sandy wipes fake sweat from his brow in relief. It's a weak joke, meant to help lighten the mood of the room, but it is met with no success. Unwillingly, Sandy thinks that Jack would be much better at this than he.

 _But you must go out and collect something very valuable. I am aware that none of you are exactly willing to do so, but I assure you: this is very necessary, and I am sure you will not regret it._

"What is it we must do?" North asks in a resigned manner. "If we must collect something, then where do we go? What are we looking for?"

 _You are all aware of the location of Burges's eternally frozen lake?_

They all wince.

 _You must travel there. The lake is surrounded by trees and small streams, and what you are looking for shouldn't be too deep into the forest. Once you find it, I'm sure you will know what to do._

The Guardians are sure they hear a smile in Manny's voice, which only accomplishes to annoy and anger them further. "What is it we are looking for?" North repeats through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to form his hands into fists.

 _You shall know when you find it._

"Helpful," Bunny snarls, but Manny doesn't answer. "Fine. C'mon, North, let's go in that blasted sleigh of yours."

Santa blinks at him in shock, but does not require any explanation. They will all cling to their memories of Jack in their own ways, he supposes.

ROTG

It takes approximately twenty minutes for the Guardians to arrive by Jack's special pond in the sleigh. They climb out grudgingly, and begin their search half-heartedly. They carefully comb the edges of the lake, being cautious not to step foot on the ice.

Eventually they move on to the woods, separating so as to finish the job faster. North trudges through the trees, hacking at the weeds and roots that get in his way with his swords. He grumbles the whole time, cursing under his breath in Russian. He does not want to be here; he doesn't want to listen to anything Manny says, or do anything he wants. North is still sour towards the Man in the Moon, even though rationally he knows Jack's death isn't his fault. In fact, the boy's passing can't be easy on Manny either. Even so, it isn't the same.

It's as North stumbles through a particularly close crop of trees that he sees it. As he hisses a string of incomprehensible words and pulls free from the clinging branches, his eyes catch sight of the almost non-existent trail. He pauses and furrows his brows, carefully kneeling down beside the trail to get a better look.

"Footprints?" he whispers to himself, observing the marks in confusion. "Why would anybody be this far out into forest?"

Curious, North follows the tracks. They are small and narrow, the toes more obvious than the heel – the footprints of a young child. Worried for the child's safety, Santa Claus determinedly traces the trail, frowning whenever he comes across a stream or fallen tree blocking his way. How had a little child maneuvered this sketchy and dangerous path?

Not looking at his feet, North is caught by surprise as his foot catches on a root and he goes sprawling to the ground, landing with a soft 'oomph!' Scratching his head, North pushes himself back up. Glancing back down to the ground, North groans. He can't find the footprints.

ROTG

Bunny studiously keeps quiet as he makes his way through the trees. He doesn't trip or stumble, as he's used to making his way through tough terrains to hide his eggs. But he does run into the occasional branch. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, as he can usually catch sight of the branch before it's even close to him, but he's currently otherwise occupied. His thoughts are drifting, switching between dark mutterings of the Man in the Moon, and the unusual (and cruel) choice of their location.

Why would Manny send them _here_ of all places? Does he think it will help them? If so, he clearly doesn't know anything about them. Or he knows them better than they know themselves. Either way, the trip is painful and pointless in Aster's eyes.

Bunny wrinkles his nose as he catches a faint scent. He stops, swivelling his ears around in an attempt to hear the source of the smell. It's faint, at least a day or so old, but it's enough for Bunny to recognize it. He frowns, crouching closer to the ground in hopes of getting a stronger scent. It stays the same. Bunny scowls and clambers back to his feet.

It's obvious that a child has passed through here recently, the scent is clear – children always smell different than adults, and Bunny is always able to tell the difference. But there's something off about it. The scent is almost _cold,_ almost too fresh, and it nearly stings his nose as he breathes in. It's hard to explain, so Bunny tries to follow it in hopes of finding this clearly lost child and returning them home. Of course, if the child has already lost their belief then Bunny won't be much help – but Bunnymund remains hopeful (no matter how wrong it seems to be so now that they are sans one member) that since the child is apparently young, then they might hold onto their belief.

He weaves his way through the trees and stumps, ears kept high in the air and nose twitching. The scent leads him in a roundabout way, back to the opposite side of the lake. There, he loses the scent. He scrunches his forehead in annoyance, straining to pick up on any sign of the child. Nothing. Not the faintest whiff of a scent, nor the slightest whisper of sound. His eyes fail him also. Bunny stops and leans back against a tree in thought. How convenient that a lost child turns up as soon as they are sent out to find something. Perhaps this child is what the Man in the Moon wishes for them to find? Despite his resistance to listening to anything Manny says Bunny knows he can't ignore this one, this child.

But how can he find them if he can't catch a sign of them?

ROTG

Sandy floats off the ground in an effort to dodge all the spare twigs and branches littering the trails. Even so, he finds himself continually picking leaves and sticks out of his hair and his dream sand cloud. He stays alert for any hint of the thing that Man in Moon wants them to find, but is so far unsuccessful in his endeavor. The forest is practically dead, with no sound, or light, or _life._ Sandy must swallow a lump in his throat as a thought springs to mind: Jack's life is the forests life, and Jack's death is the forests death.

Sandy casts out streams of his dream sand, hoping that they will catch something that his keen eyes have missed. No luck as of yet.

He nearly falls over on his cloud of sand when a protruding twig jabs his cheek, almost hitting his eye. Sandy bats it away, frowning to himself. How had he missed it? Sandy rubs his cheek and steps closer to the middle of his cloud, away from the threatening limbs.

He carries on for a few minutes, letting his eyes trace over the trees and rocks in an attempt to miss nothing. This is why he instantly notices when the branches become broken and the twigs trodden on. Sandy pauses in his search to inspect the damage. This small patch of area surrounding the trail has trees crowded in near it, but the lower branches are broken and laying on the ground amongst the overturned rocks and snapped twigs.

Something has obviously been thrashing around in this specific area – something bigger than Sandy, but smaller than Tooth, and easily dwarfed by both North and Bunny. Sandy is utterly confused, especially when he notices the large dance of footprints set directly in the middle of the mess.

Oddly enough, there seems to be two different sets of footprints, one tiny and slender, those of a child, and one narrow and slightly bigger. But they both seem to be almost exactly the same, and if it hadn't been for the size Sandy would have said they belonged to the same person.

Perplexed, Sandy steps off from his dream cloud and bends down to study them. Satisfied, he climbs back aboard with new determination – the determination to find a most likely terrified little child lost in the woods. It's beyond him how a child has wandered this far out into the forest, far out of Burgess itself, but Sandy shall find the kid first, and question the reasons second.

But where does he start?

ROTG

Tooth walks instead of flies so as not to get her wings caught in the close-cropped trees. Her steps are light and quick, aiding her in the act of avoiding the many obstacles in her course. Tooth walks in silence, biting her lip the entire time. Unusually, only one fairy accompanies her – Baby Tooth. The little fairy has become quite attached to her mother, following her everywhere and reassuring her with her small presence.

Currently, Baby Tooth is twittering in her ear, repeatedly reminding her that what she is doing is necessary, and if Manny has asked it of them, then it must be important, especially since he knows the absence of Jack is awful for all of them, so much so that it is hindering them in their work. Despite the fact that Tooth has remained holed up in her palace ever since the funeral, she is all too aware that North has been doing much the same until very recently, and Bunny hasn't been seen at all. Sandy has been going on about his work nightly, but her fairies have reported that he leaves hours earlier than usual, and his dreams aren't nearly as imaginative and creative as Sandy normally strives for them to be.

Sighing in resignation, Tooth picks up the pace. She manages to scour half the woods – it at least feels like half the woods – before she stops and rests against a nearby tree. It's not that she's tired, of course not, but rather the fact that being in this place brings on memories that although aren't unpleasant, have a negative effect. Being the Guardian of Memories gives her the ability to never forget a memory, no matter how many she has. This means that treading this trail, looking at these trees, and smelling this air all remind her painfully of _Jack._

Speaking of looking at the trees and smelling the air, Tooth catches her breath and strains her senses as she gets the hint of another presence. Spinning around, she squints into the trees behind her. A flash of colour greets her eyes. Tooth freezes and breathes carefully, keeping as still as possible. Her eyes float down to the ground, where volleys of footprints meet her gaze. Tiny and narrow. A child's.

"Hello?" she says softly, slowly creeping closer to the tree she had seen the flash of colour duck behind. "Is anybody there?"

The soft sound of musical giggling floats over to her, and Tooth can't help but smile. "I can hear you, but I can't see you, little one," she sings quietly, sneaking even closer. "Won't you come out?"

Inwardly, she thanks Jack for teaching them how to interact with kids after he became a Guardian, even though the thought causes a ripple of pain to flow through her.

The form behind the tree laughs again, but doesn't show their selves. Tooth can hear them shift and the soft cracking of a twig as they step on it, and she pauses in her forward motion.

"Well, then can you tell me your name? I'll tell you mine."

Tooth can practically feel the hesitance coming from behind the tree. "I'm Toothiana, but most call me Tooth," she says lightly, carefully kneeling down on the ground so as to appear more inviting and assuring. "I'm the Tooth Fairy – do you know who that is?"

Vaguely she realizes that if the child can see her then they must know who she is, but this thought doesn't strike her until the words have already left her mouth.

At the sound of her name, the small figure peeks around the tree, their face bathed in shadows. "Tooth Fairy?" comes the tiny, awed voice. Tooth jerks at the sound, but smiles all the same. The child's voice – it sounds like that of a boy's, but she cannot be sure – is quiet but soft and musical all the same.

"That's right, sweetie," Tooth enthuses lightly, morphing her face into what she hopes is a welcoming mask. "Can you come a little closer? I can take you home."

After a second of hesitance where Tooth waits with baited breath, the small form steps out of the shadows and into the light of the Moon. When they do, Tooth gasps and shoots to her feet, hands flying to her mouth. The child takes a surprised step back and ducks their head at her reaction, and Tooth fights to get her emotions back under control.

 _"North!"_ she shouts into the woods behind her, not taking her eyes away from the child in front of her. " _Bunny! Sandy!"_


	3. Chapter 3

**Oops.**

* * *

Tooth struggles to breathe evenly, hands fluttering at her chest. Her feet are firmly planted on the ground, for she is much too stunned to trust herself in the air. Her eyes are wide and carefully trained on the small figure currently hidden behind a tree, where he had dived after she had raised her voice for the others.

She takes a deep breath and briefly shuts her eyes before slowly kneeling on the forest floor, attempting to keep a friendly smile on her face. "Come on, sweetie," she manages to get out, whisper-quiet. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you. Why don't you come out? I promise I won't yell again."

The little figure hesitates, but eventually white hair peeks out from behind the thick tree trunk. Tooth silently sighs in relief and relaxes when the small child begins to step away from the bark and closer to her, only to be sent scurrying back as loud crashing noises come from the forest and North stumbles through, swords in hand.

"Tooth!" he cries when he catches sight of her climbing to her feet again. "What is wrong? Is there danger?" He looks around wildly, and Tooth feels the irritated scowl slip from her face, to be replaced by a sad look of sympathy. How can she stay mad at him for making such a racket when he has just been making sure she isn't in trouble? She knows perfectly well that he is just worried – that they are _all_ worried – of losing another member.

"Shh!" she hisses as this thought springs to mind, bringing with it the reminder of the little form crouching behind the tree. Tooth jabs a finger at the tree, a grin spreading across her face as her eyes sparkle. Confused, North puts away his swords and swivels his head around to follow her pointing.

Before she can explain, Bunny and Sandy burst into the clearing, whips and boomerangs at the ready. Immediately, Tooth waves her arms to calm them then raises a finger to her lips. Obediently the sand-whips disappear and the boomerangs slip away, but now she is faced with three befuddled looks.

Cautioning them to say nothing with her eyes, Tooth turns back to the tree with a reassuring smile. "It's okay," she says gently. "There's no need to be scared. These are friends of mine."

"Tooth, what -" Bunny starts, but then abruptly cuts off as the sound of tiny feet shuffling against the carpet of dry leaves reaches his ears. "You found the kid that's been wanderin' round here!" he exclaims, sounding relieved. "I caught the scent of 'im. Is he a'right?"

Sandy forms a light-bulb over his head and eagerly looks at Tooth, while North raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

"Yes," she stutters out, "but, I mean, it's not – he isn't just a – oh, just _look_!" She harshly throws a finger out to point at the tree, where a hint of blue and white can be seen. "Oh," she sighs, "come on, honey. No one's going to hurt you; I promise. I'm the Tooth Fairy, remember? You can trust me. Look, Santa's here too! Don't you want to meet Santa Claus?"

A head finally appears as the child finally steps into full view, his eyes hidden behind his hair shyly, so they cannot get a good glance at his face – or his hair really, since the hood of his oversized jumper is up. "Santa?" he repeats softly, voice lilting in excitement. "Really?"

North steps forward, a smile already stretched across his face – but Tooth knows he hasn't yet really spotted what is so amazing about this child, for his eyes are sad and his smile painfully forced. "Yes!" he exclaims jubilantly, throwing his arms out wide. "I am Santa Claus – and who may you be?"

Tooth is about tell them to get a better look at the child – notice the blue jumper that tumbles past his knees and trails on the ground? see the hint of white hair peeking out of the hood? you must see the _oh so_ familiar blue eyes! – but before she can, the boy's words cut her off.

"Jackie," he giggles. "Jack, Jackie!"

All the Guardians except for Tooth freeze, and she nearly sobs at the broken look on all their faces. "Guys," she whispers instead, "look at him properly! What do you see?"

Sandy understands first. She can tell when he finally understands because he jumps backwards and his eyes go as wide as saucers. He swivels his head around to her and points at the child, seemingly unable to form pictures above his head. Tooth nods enthusiastically, a stupid grin on her face. Sandy becomes unfocussed for a minute, but finally he turns back to the boy, and when he does, bursts of dream sand shoot up from the ground and twine around them all. They split into all kinds of creatures in reaction to his ecstatic mood, and the other Guardians – who have not quite figured it out yet - look surprised and a little wary.

As a small sand-dolphin swims circles around him, little Jackie gasps and then laughs as he spins around and around trying to catch it. He trips and cries out in shock as he falls to the ground, throwing out his hands to catch himself. When he does so, his hood slips from his head, revealing a mop of brilliant white hair.

Bunny drops his arms from where they have been trying to ward off some sand-greyhounds and steps backward, his ears ever so slowly lowering themselves to his eye-level. North openly gapes at the child, mouth open and all.

"Jack?" Bunny whispers. "Frostbite?"

"It cannot be," North chokes out. "We saw Jack… he was… he can't be!"

Tooth slowly makes her way over to him and hovers up to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. She offers him a soft smile when he cranes his head around to catch sight of her, his eyes wide, somewhat glassy, and full to brimming with hope he doesn't dare let himself feel.

"The Man in the Moon must have brought him back," she suggests quietly. "Perhaps the fact that Jack was – is – a winter spirit allowed him to linger long enough to be revived. Maybe Manny could only bring him back as a young child because Jack has already been brought back to life once before?"

"He's alive," Bunny states blandly, appearing to be in a state of shock. "Jack's actually alive?" Being the Guardian of Hope seemingly makes him more susceptible to its clutches, because the rabbit's eyes are glinting, almost feverish in the dim light of night, and Tooth can practically feel the desperate hope, the desperate need for this to be real radiating from him in waves.

Little Jack only then starts to struggle back to his feet, his tongue stuck out between his - still perfectly white and straight! – teeth. Now that his hood is gone and Tooth can get a better look at him, she estimates his age to be about five or six years old. His face is round and enthusiastic as only a child's can be, a constant twinkle in his eye – one more pronounced than his usual, older, sparkle that only promises mischief. Jack's eyes seem larger and brighter when set in his baby face, beacons of everything the Guardians protect – in them swirls endless wonder in every new discovery, limitless hope for more fun times and worriless nights, even the boundless imagination that grants potential for the best of dreams. Only, Tooth notes as she wilts, his eyes are void of any recognition for them other than their personas as childhood legends and myths. He has no memory of his life as fourteen-year-old Jack Frost.

Clumsily, with exaggerated movements, Jack ruffles his hair, dislodging a few leaves that have gotten tangled in his unruly locks. Finished, his eyes rest on Bunnymund. His whole expression lights up and he lets out a sound that can only be described as the excited squeal of a child whose deepest wish has come true.

"Bunny!" he squeaks, bouncing on his toes.

Aster flit a questioning glance at Tooth, and her heart breaks as she shakes her head, quelling the bud of hope in his gaze. Jack is not calling him by name, but rather by label – the boy only recognizes him as the Easter Bunny, not a Guardian and personal friend.

Still, he is definitely Jack, and is clearly alive and well – even if he is a few feet shorter and a whole lot younger. So when the child vaults himself at the rabbit, Bunny does not hesitate to crouch and skilfully catch him before he plants head first into the ground. Jack does not seem perturbed as he giggles and bounces up and down even as he squeezes the rabbit around the middle.

"Crikey," Bunny mumbles, his voice somewhat strained despite his faked calm demeanour. "Yer a lively one, ain't ya mate? Sure like ta laugh. Bet ya have a -"

Before he can finish his sentence, Jack gasps and pushes away from him, eagerly dashing over to an equally elated Sandman.

"Short attention span," Bunny ends, arms swinging back as he straightens back to his full height. His eyes stay locked on the little boy now studying Sandy's pictures with adorable concentration, still looking a bit shell-shocked. Tooth aches for him as she notices the lost glimmer in his eyes; as if he isn't sure what to do or how to truly to process things.

She stays by North's side, however, as he seems to be even more affected than the Easter Bunny. Santa is silent, head inclined in the direction of Sandy and Jack, but his eyes are unable to remain focused on them for long. He will attempt to look, to guarantee to himself that he is not imagining things; that Jack really is alive, but he can only manage for a handful of seconds before his eyes flash with pain and he squeezes his eyes shut. Only Tooth has noticed, and though it kills her to do so, she turns her back on Jack to look him straight in the eye.

"North?" she says softly, but he still jumps and his eyes snap open. He is fast to mask his emotions that are easily displayed in his eyes, but not fast enough before Tooth can make out grief, immense relief, pain, fear, and a little bit of guilt. Her breath catches in her throat and her wings briefly stall in their rapid beating, but she crinkles her eyes in concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he says, sounding genuinely confused. "Jack is back! All is right with world, yes? What could be wrong?"

Instead of shrugging and letting him deal with things however way he wanted, Tooth huffs and narrows her eyes stubbornly. He seems to wilt under her gaze, the fight seeping out of him.

"'Tis truly nothing," he sighs. "You need not worry. I am fine, Jack is fine. We must celebrate!"

Despite her better judgment Tooth bites her lip and steps away, allowing North's mask to fall into place and hide his true feelings from them, from her. She can confront him about it later, but for now she can't hold off her excitement over Jack anymore.

Hoping North will understand, Tooth spins around and tracks for Jack with her intent gaze, feeling antsy and impatient. She finds him a few feet away from his previous position, peering over the edge of Sandy's sand-cloud. The little Sandman has clearly formed the mode of transportation in preparation for the trek back to the Pole they will surely be having, and the boy has immediately become consumed by the desire to come recklessly close to the edge in order to see things in a higher perspective – exactly something Jack would be apt to do.

It still puts Tooth's nerves on edge, terrified that he'll slip off the cloud, even though she knows that Sandy would never let that happen. She zips over to them and quickly scoops mini-Jack into her arms, who squawks in surprise, and lightly touches back down in the middle of Sandy's 'vehicle'. He gives her an amused look, but there's a hint of understanding in his eyes. The child in her arms stops squirming to be put down – which Tooth had planned to do as soon as he was away from the ledge, but had somehow lost the thought – and contents himself with gently stroking the feathers on her arms.

"Pretty," he murmurs, and Tooth is vividly struck with the memory of Sophie Bennett. She smiles at him, and Jack grins back toothily, distracting her with his glimmering pearls. But then he yawns, his mouth gaping and nose scrunching, and he snuggles closer into her chest. Sandy brightens considerably, clapping his hands gleefully. Jack watches him wearily out of the slits of his drowsy eyes, but offers no resistance when the Guardian begins spinning dream sand in his hands. The boy seems engrossed in the action, watching with deep interest up until the moment Sandy flings the clump at him, causing the little boy to instantly fall deeply asleep.

Tooth tries to give Sandy a reproachful look for his trickery, but stops when she sees him looking satisfied with himself, his gaze softening, and she catches him staring at Jack oddly, an unreadable look on his face. Tooth lets it be and gives him a moment before the slight weight in her arms shift and she gracefully folds herself into a sitting position on the cloud, cradling her prize close to her. Taking the hint, Sandy swivels back around and raises his hands parallel to the cloud in order to steer it. Suddenly, Tooth snaps her head up in search of North and Bunny, but they are both gone – as well as the sleigh. She feels a stab of guilt at forgetting them – North had probably wanted to give little Jack a ride in his sleigh! Maybe Bunny had wanted to bring him to the Warren, in hope of jogging his memory.

As if sensing her thoughts, Sandy pats her shoulder comfortingly without taking his eyes off the ground in front of him as the cloud hovers higher and begins to fly smoothly north. Letting out a breath through locked teeth, Tooth settles back to enjoy the ride, fingers idly pulling through the snoozing boy's hair. Jack's much cuddlier this way, she decides. Small enough to be cradled in her arms. For a moment Tooth amuses herself with the mental image of how tiny this Jack would look with Bunny or North. Jack had been dwarfed by them as a thin, lanky fourteen-year-old – he'd be absolutely _miniscule_ compared to them now that he's only just shorter than Sandy.

As the journey wears on, Tooth begins to get the sneaking suspicion that Sandy's dream-cloud oozes tiny strands of dream-sand into one's system, gradually lulling them to sleep. Her fears are confirmed when drowsiness overtakes her and her eyes slip shut.

* * *

North had left without so much as a goodbye. Silly thing to feel guilty over, of course, considering he's pretty sure Sandy will take Tooth and Jack, itty-bitty shrunken Jack, back to the Pole anyway, but he can't shake the heavy feeling from his shoulders.

He slumps further in his chair, eyeing the plate of cookies beside him in disgust. The only reason he has permitted the treat to exist inside his Workshop again is because of the miraculous return of Jack, the heart and soul of the Guardians. When he had first made the request, merely four and a half minutes ago, the Yeti and elves had frozen throughout the entire Workshop, the halls so echoingly silent that one could hear a pin drop.

North remembers that Phil had been close by when he had asked Sean, the head Yeti chef, to make the biggest plate of his best cookies. His head Yeti had had a twisted look of pain on his furry face, and North had had to swallow back some similar feelings. However, Santa had forced a wide smile and thrown his arms out wide, declaring loudly, "Big news! Jack is not dead!"

He had not explained further, he wasn't sure he could, but no other words were needed. The halls had immediately burst into ruckus pandemonium, so loud that it pounded against one's eardrums painfully, beating a headache into place. Yeti had instantly dropped whatever toy they had been working on and rushed to help Sean, even though the Yeti was far from needing help. The kitchen had bulged with furry mountains, filled with grumbling and nonsense cries.

North had left them to it, finding a free armchair in his study and sinking into it, feeling exhausted by the turmoil of emotions from within.

He's beyond elated that Jack is not dead; a warm feeling encases him every time he thinks of it, and he feels like he is floating on clouds above anything and everything that may bring him back down. He believes it a miracle that they are being given another chance at protecting the boy, like they should have done the first time round – well, the second time really, though they should have protected him as Jackson Overland too – but that's just it. North has failed before. Jack had died by Pitch's hand, all because North was unable to save him. How can he truly be a Guardian of the children if he had not been able to save their very own Guardian child? If North had just noticed the dagger flying towards him sooner, he would have gotten out of the way and Jack wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself. _North_ should have been the one to save _Jack,_ not the other way around. But Jack is alive! He is not gone!

But if it hadn't been for North's mistake, Jack wouldn't be a little kid now. None of them would have had to experience his death if it had not been for North. It's his fault that things are the way they are. He knows Jack would never blame him for this if he could remember them, but this does nothing to chase the sorrow away. This is the only thing dragging his mood down from his gleeful high; twisting his thoughts and making it so he can barely bear to glance at Jack in his new form without a wave of guilt crashing over him.

He doesn't like feeling this way. He wants to just feel happy that Jack is with them again – and he really is – but his feelings taint his happiness. It isn't fair to North, nor is it fair to Jack himself. So Santa can only think of one option: pretend. Pretend that everything is fine; pack down the guilt and pain and mask it behind the positive feelings. It shouldn't be too hard – the positive feelings are very nearly over-whelming as it is, but –

"Don't be an idiot, North."

He leaps up from his chair and spins to face Bunny, leaning against the doorway. The rabbit seems less shocked than he did in the forest, but his eyes are blank and his posture tense. North thinks he might have an idea why, but doesn't let the thought fully form.

"What?" he says instead, letting a trace of indignation trickle into his expression.

"I said don't be an idiot," Bunny replies simply, unmoving. "I know what yer thinking. Yer blaming yerself for what happened to Jack, and ya shouldn't. It wasn't your fault, North; Jack chose to get in the way and save you. I know he's – he's little now, and I have no idea what that means or how it's possible, but he's _back._ It's mad, but he really is back, North. Just be happy he isn't really dead."

"You are not," North points out without blame. He moves to the side of the room to peek out the window to see if there is any sign of Sandy yet.

"I'm happy," Bunny argues. "More than happy. It just seems wrong somehow. He isn't our Jack anymore, not when he's… Jack died, North. He's back now but he ain't himself. He's not Jack Frost; he's just a little kid that we found in the woods near Jack's lake."

North frowns, eyes showing his inner conflict like windows. In a way, he knows Bunny is right; the reason the Guardians loved Jack so much was because of his personality, and that personality was based on his foundation of memories collected over three hundred years. Of course, as a human Jack must have had similar traits – one does not simply conjure a different sense of self out of thin air, even if one does not have their memories.

Without the basis for Jack's personality, however, all that's left is a little boy who's the mirror image of their beloved winter spirit and has the same merry twinkle in his eye and the same trouble-maker grin. Yes, Jack is alive; but Jack Frost is gone.

On the other hand, no one said this situation is permanent. Perhaps after a bit, once Jack has gathered enough power and energy back to restore himself, he will revert back to how things were. After all, Tooth's theory is that Manny has brought Jack back from the dead, but Jack is not strong enough to maintain his fourteen-year-old status. It stands to reason that after a period of time things will return to how they should be: Jack older, alive and well, retaining full memory of all of them.

Bunny seems to read the conflict of emotion across his face, because he pushes off from the doorframe and his gaze softens in understanding. "I'm not saying I'm not… relieved that Jack is actually back, I'm just saying it isn't the same."

Briefly ignoring his blatant hesitation, North slumps his shoulders. "Maybe things will go back to normal," he suggests, though it sounds half-hearted to his own ears. "After a while, maybe Jack will be Jack again."

Bunny nods. "Maybe. I hope so."

Nothing else can be said, because at that moment a sharp rapping rings through the room. Surprised, North spins around, his shoulders tense and his eyes narrowed. His hands are halfway to his swords before he realizes that Sandy is stationed outside his window, pleasantly waving to come in. Shaking his head to rid himself of the uneasy feeling, North hastily makes his way to the other side of the room and yanks the window open, wrinkling his nose as a gust of freezing wind makes its way in.

Sandy carefully maneuvers his dream-cloud into the room, and North sees why when the Sandman stalls in the middle of the room. Tooth is curled up on the cloud, her soft, even breathing indicating her deep sleep. Tucked away safe in her arms is a tiny blue bundle, which North quickly discerns as Jack by the tuft of white hair.

"Sandy," Bunny says as he comes up beside them, sounding disapproving yet vaguely amused, "did you make Tooth fall asleep, too? I get making the ankle-biter sleep – imagine having him running 'bout the Workshop in a frenzy, he was bad enough before – but it's yer own fault if Tooth wakes up and wants ta tear inta ya."

Looking only faintly worried, Sandy nods and flashes a grin, appearing much happier and more himself than he had ever since Jack's death.

"Tooth," North stage-whispers, poking the slumbering fairy. "Toothy? Wakey-wakey."

Unfortunately, he awakes the wrong sleeper. Blue eyes blink open, revealing shades of foggy curiosity and sleep hazed confusion. Jack hums as he shifts out of Tooth's arms, scrubbing his eyes with his small fist. He yawns, revealing a full set of beautiful teeth and a rosy pink tongue.

"Ah," North exhales, wincing. "Oops."

Despite the fact that everyone except Tooth (who is still sleeping undisturbed) tenses in anticipation of the loud cries, perhaps even wails, that one usually expects from an awakened small child, they are all pleasantly surprised to find Jack silent, peering at them oddly.

"Hello," he greets in a quiet whisper, apparently mindful of Tooth beside him. "Where'm I?"

Sharing a quick look with Bunny, North sucks in a breath and prepares himself mentally for whatever excitement is about to occur. "You are at my Workshop!"

Jack blinks at him.

"You know…" North trails off, looking crestfallen and confused. "Santa's Workshop? Because… I am Santa!"

This time Jack narrows his eyes and scowls, shoving a finger to his lips and _shush_ -ing him, jabbing a finger forcefully at Tooth. "Fairy sleeping," he hisses. "Be quiet!"

Bunny snorts in laughter, but tries to stifle it behind his paw lest the pint-sized winter spirit turn his (rather adorable) anger on him. North mumbles an apology and Jack lessens his glare enough for Santa to relax – who knew the kid could be so intimidating? Especially now he's mini-sized.

Jack crawls back to Tooth's warm figure, and the Tooth Fairy immediately wraps him in a welcoming cuddle. He nestles his head on her shoulder, using her feathers as a pillow. He trains his eyes on the other Guardians for a moment, before they flutter shut and he curls into a ball. It takes merely seconds for him to fall back asleep.

"Sandy," North whispers, "how long do side-effects of dream-sand last?"

The Dream Guardian shrugs, watching the two slumbering figures curiously.

"Well," Bunny sighs, "guess be bettah find a place fer them ta sleep – I'm guessing ya don't want them on yer cloud all night?" Sandy shakes his head regretfully. "All right. So where can they sleep, North?"

He ponders on it for a minute. "Jack's old room," he finally says, though he winces when it leaves his mouth. They freeze for a moment, barely breathing as they bounce around in their own minds and memories until a gentle snore from said boy startles them out of it.

"Right," Bunny chokes out, sounding strangled. "Jack's room."


End file.
